


Stories

by felix_is_a_gay_newsie



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Abuse, Albert is a pretty boy and you can fight me, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And yet, Blood, I love Albert, I'm writing this fic, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jack is just trying to be a good brother, M/M, Mentioned Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, The Refuge, Violence, someone help these boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix_is_a_gay_newsie/pseuds/felix_is_a_gay_newsie
Summary: Everyone has a story.This is Albert's.He's trying, he's trying so hard.But no one understood him.No one understood the cuts and bruises, the glass shards and blood stains.He tried to talk, but he couldn't.When he does finally reach out, it's too late.





	Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Albert's POV.

“Al, what happened?”

I keep my eyes fixed on the floor.

“It ain’t nothin’.” I mumble.

“You show up in the middle of the night covered in bruises! Somethin’ happened.”

I clench my fist tighter, my fingernails scraping against the slightly scratchy fabric of the hat.

“I said I’se fine, Race.” Despite my best efforts to sound annoyed, I just end up sounding quiet and subdued.

“Is that blood?”

“Jus’ forget it. I’ll sleep on the street.” I turn away to leave, but Race catches my arm.

I hiss in pain and jerk away from his grip.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’ta said that! I’ll stay, I’ll stay! I’ll make more money, promise! Please, jus’ don’t hit me again!”

It’s too much pain, I don’t know how I can possibly take any more, I just want to be able to do something right for once-

“Al, I ain’t gonna hit ya.” The voice is soft and quiet.

I was expecting harsh shouts and biting words.

This is different.

“Al, look at me.” The voice pleads, and I’m tempted to obey, I really am, but I’ve fallen for that trick before. Or will not obeying bring more pain?

I shake my head, instead choosing to focus on the cracks in the floorboards.

“Albert, please.”

I look up.

A face.

The blurred shape of a person.

“Race?”

“Yeah, Al. It’s me. Please, jus’ tell me what happened.” He’s practically begging me, his blue eyes wide and rimmed with tears.

“It was worse this time.” I say quietly. “I didn’t sell all of my papes today, an’ she was mad about that.”

“Who?”

“My ma.” I say. “I wasn’t expectin’ it ta be too bad, it ain’t never too bad, but I fucked up. One of her friends saw us, Racer. She saw us hugging, she saw you squeeze my hand… she told my ma. An’ my ma was real mad. She called me things, an’ she was hittin’ me harder-”

I’m losing my breath, I’m talking too fast, how am I supposed to tell Race?

I choke out a sob, I have to tell Race. I owe it to him.

“She was drinking, but she’s always drinking. An’ then she finished the bottle an’ she-”

My voice breaks, I can’t keep talking anymore. Tears are spilling down my face, and the salt water stings the cuts.

“My arm.” I manage to say.

Race comes over and gingerly takes my arm in his hands, and he gasps in shock.

The gash running down my arm, the small shards of glass still lodged in my skin.

My vision is tunneling, my head is spinning.

I slump to the floor, the world vanishing into black.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos?  
> tumblr is @thatpoorguysheadisspinning


End file.
